


Someone Else

by triumphforks



Series: Orion One Shots [1]
Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven: Orion no Kokuin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 15:44:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19359955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triumphforks/pseuds/triumphforks
Summary: Haizaki is looking for someone to train with at the start of the FFI Asia Prelims, but Kidou is too busy to humour him.





	Someone Else

Haizaki was restless. They’d been at the training centre for less than a week, and it was already enough to drive him mad. The evenings, especially, when training was done and dinner finished and everyone going off to do their own thing - those were the hardest to get through, from sheer tedium alone. Asuto and the other Raimon members were too much when they were all together, all loud and energetic and seemingly sharing the same hivemind. If he’d wanted to feel alone in a crowd they’d be his first stop! His roommate - that Kira Hiroto - was insufferable, and after the first unsuccessful introduction Hiroto had gone to completely ignoring him, plugging in his headphones and staring blankly at the wall. Being in the same room as that was… unsettling, to say the least, and not exactly the kind of weird torture he wanted to put himself through. 

Unless he wanted to try and fill the time void all on his own, that left… Kidou. But he was different here too. He  _ smiled  _ now. In a genuine way, not a scheming one. He joked. He didn’t go around  _ frowning _ all the time. And that made Haizaki hesitate, just a little, hand hovering over the handle of the door to Kidou’s room. This was intrusive, he thought. Would Kidou still even care about him, now that he didn’t have a responsibility to? Things were different now. But - he thought, pushing down on the handle and swinging it open - not different enough to stop him. 

“Oi, Kidou,” he said, leaning in to the room. Kidou was at one of the desks flicking a pencil between his fingers, surrounded by a pile of notes with his goggles sitting discarded on top. He looked up at Haizaki’s words, without even the slightest change in expression. He didn’t say anything. Just waited.     
“... come train with me,” he finished, but with less fire than he’d started with. Kidou looked back at his notes, tapping his pencil; dragging out his thinking pause far longer than he needed to. 

“I’m busy,” he said finally. “But Gouenji could train with you.” 

There was a noise then, grabbing his attention; movement at one of the room’s beds, from a crumpled heap he’d dismissed as soon as he’d entered the room. 

“I’m tired,” it said.

“You’re lazy,” Kidou retorted. There was a short period of… nothing, and Haizaki found himself tense, still holding on to the door, left hanging for a response. 

“He’ll end up better than you.” Kidou didn’t look over as he spoke, instead making some kind of note in his work. It was like he already knew what would happen; that the figure on the bed, Gouenji Shuuya, would pull itself up, if only reluctantly. He stretched, dragging his feet as he made his way over, swiping playfully at Kidou as he went past. But Kidou seemed to have anticipated that, too, catching the attack and making a half-hearted one back. And Haizaki was still left there hanging. If his plan had been to spend the evening  _ not  _ feeling out of place… well, it was off to a bad start.  

“Come on,” said Gouenji as he walked past, startling him from his thoughts. The other boy smiled at him as he went out the door, as if to say  _ follow. _ But Haizaki paused before doing so, glancing back in to the room one last time - only to see Kidou already absorbed back in his notes. Reluctantly he pushed away, and let the door swing closed.

* * *

 

Gouenji was already well ahead, and he tried to catch up… inconspicuously. If Gouenji noticed, he didn’t show it. Haizaki frowned, falling in to step and watching the older boy from the corner of his eyes. It was like he was two different people. Around Kidou, and the Captain, you’d almost be fooled in to thinking he was a cheerful, inviting, ordinary person. He was quieter, sure, but still in the realm of actual person. In any other company he was just like this - eyes fixed ahead, cold, distant, completely unapproachable. A silence so overbearing you didn’t even want to break it.

If anything, Haizaki thought, here was a chance to size-up his (not at all intimidating) competition. But, well, being up close to him like this… he couldn’t help but think it wasn’t doing Gouenji any favours. His hair was messy. He looked unkempt, like he’d rolled in to his jersey, and didn’t seem to care at all for what was going on around him. It was almost like he was in blinkers, staring straight ahead, as though whatever was there (nothing but empty hallway, Haizaki noted) was far more important than whoever he was walking with. 

You’d be hard pressed to look at him and think of him as impressive - but still, somehow, in spite of it all, he carried himself with confidence.  _ Arrogance _ . 

_ No one gives him shit for  _ his _ attitude,  _ Haizaki thought bitterly. But there was a silver lining to his focus - no fuss when they got to the field, no arguing or getting sidetracked by conversation when it came to getting gear from the storeroom. He had almost started to feel optimistic - as much as he was an emotionless robot, at least Gouenji was sticking to his word and helping. Haizaki almost dared to feel excitement, bubbling; he wasn’t an  _ idiot _ . He knew how good the other boy was, and how this was the perfect chance to improve himself - but then, the first snag hit. They set up the net, and the stockpile of balls to shoot with, and then… Gouenji left him, walking single-mindedly to the edge of the field, where he promptly turned and sat heavy on the ground. 

“That’s all you’re going to do?” He snapped, unable to act like this didn’t bother him.

“I’m not like Endou or Kidou. I don’t have unlimited energy.” He spoke so nonchalantly, stretching out on the turf. Haizaki frowned. Some ace striker! He would have been better off training alone. He didn’t need him anyway. 

He kicked the first ball at the net, all unfocused rage, and it hit the back of it with a satisfying crash. He smiled to himself, smug. He glanced over at Gouenji, expecting him to be paying attention, now that he’d just shown how strong he could be - but had his satisfaction quickly turn to rage. The other boy’s expression hadn’t changed. He was still at it with that vacant stare. Did he even have a brain? What was he here for? Did he think so little of him that he didn’t feel even the tiniest bit threatened? 

Well, Haizaki thought. He’d make him afraid! 

He took a breath. Steeled himself. And kicked the next ball with as much ferocity as he could muster. The ground shook at his feet, as the image of bullets - no, sleek, dark birds - erupted from it. They plowed in to the net, forcing the whole thing back.  _ How was that? _ , he thought, glancing over again, expecting to see an entirely different look on that smug Gouenji’s face. But rage hit him again, and stronger this time.

His expression  _ was _ different. Just not in the way he wanted. Gouenji was frowning, looking more concerned than afraid. 

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”, he snapped. 

“... It’s different to Kidou’s.” 

“Of course it’s different to Kidou’s!” His voice rose higher than he intended. But he felt completely justified. What kind of help was that? Even if he  _ wanted  _ advice, he couldn’t do anything with it. Of course he was different to Kidou! He was  _ meant to be.  _ What was this guy, an idiot?

“It’s powerful.” Gouenji continued in that same even tone, with that same frowning, thinking expression. It made him want to kick a ball right at his face. “But that’s not enough. Teikoku’s feel like they’ll tear you apart. This is just...” 

_ Humph.  _ “It was enough to get past Teikoku!” he shot back. He turned away, hair flying out with the sudden movement. It didn’t matter! He was going to practice his own way, whether this asshole acknowledged him or not. He kicked the next ball, sent it flying, erratic, but still finding the back of the net. 

“That was terrible.” 

That voice! It cut through him, somehow, even though it was so dull and plain and lifeless. He turned back, ready to throw back a reply, but when he made eye contact he was caught by a chill. “You’re satisfied with just beating Teikoku?” 

He looked away, again. He had to.  _ It’s in his eyes,  _ he thought, uneasy.  _ All the anger is in his eyes.  _

“It was enough to beat  _ you,”  _ he snapped, but quieter this time. He didn’t want to look back up. He got another ball out of the bag, ready to try again. But he hesitated. 

“That’s not what it’s about.” The voice came close, demanding he look up - and when he did, he saw Gouenji had stood, and come over. Instinctively, he pulled back. 

“What is it then?” He watched the other boy cautiously, still holding the ball in his hands. 

“It’s here,” Gouenji said, tapping his chest - his heart - with a light fist. And he  _ smiled _ . Haizaki was stuck. What was he meant to do with that?

“You know,” Gouenji continued, reaching out to take the ball from his unresisting hold. “For us, we’ve got one thing to do. It’s not worrying about strategy or tactics or anything like that. Leave that for Kidou to stress over.” Had his voice changed? Before it was hard, just like his eyes, carrying a sense of dissatisfaction, and uncompromise. But now it was softer, almost warm. Patient. Gouenji wasn’t looking at him anymore; his eyes were on the ball in his hands as they turned it, studied it. “We have to trust that the rest of them out there will get this to us-” he tapped the ball lightly “-and when it does, it’ll come carrying everyone’s hope, and struggle, and their  _ want _ to win.” His voice got harsher at the end, and his expression did too. He dropped the ball and caught it, balancing, on the top of his foot. “ _ Our _ job is the most important one. We take those feelings, and make them our conviction.  _ That’s _ where the strength has to come from. Everyone on the field is going to put their trust in you, to get the goal. If you’re just thinking about yourself-” Gouenij shot him a glance there, and it  _ cut _ \- “it won’t be enough.” 

At the end of his speech he flicked the ball in the air, and before Haizaki could even register what was happening, he had swung back and kicked it.

He heard the contact - of boot, and ball, and net. It was just a normal shoot. But the air burned, and was dragged from his lungs. 

Gouenji looked at him.  _ Smug.  _

“... trust _ , _ ” Haizaki said eventually, turning the word over, letting it sink.

“Trust.” The reply came matter-of-factly. Natural. He wasn’t buying it. But Gouenji seemed pleased with himself, as he went to get another ball and kicked it over lightly.    
“What kind of advice is that?”, he muttered under his breath. He wasn’t looking, but he could feel the other boy hovering over him, watching. Waiting. His body was tense - it was those eyes, focused, boring in to him. He took a breath and closed his own eyes, tried to shake off the feeling.  _ Trust.  _ What kind of bullshit was that? Just nice words that meant nothing, when it came to it. What mattered more to him was the feeling of being out there, with his heart pounding and his breathing heavy, hearing the others shout his name; hear them calling, pushing, with desperation-

The memory ringing in his head, his body moved on its own - and the ball at his feet went flying, with a rush, and a roar.

His head was fuzzy and he had to stop, to catch his breath.

“That was better.” That voice! It cut through the static, and he whipped around to confront it. Gouenji was standing by the ball bag, hands tucked in his pockets,  _ smiling.  _ Whatever he was going to say, and he looked back away with a  _ humph  _ instead. Something hit his feet - another ball, he confirmed with a glance. 

“Try it again.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He closed his eyes again, partly to steady himself… and mostly to block Gouenji out. He had the feeling he would be annoyingly persistent, just like Kidou, but in his own unsettling way. It didn’t matter, he thought, clearing his mind of any residue unease.  _ He had to remember the feeling.  _ That feeling of exhilaration. And if he put that feeling in to his shoot…

The ball flew propelled with all the force of a rogue wave, and met the net with a crash. 

_ Almost,  _ he thought.

“Is that new?” Gouenji sure was talkative all of a sudden.

“... Yeah.” He didn’t want to answer, but he felt he’d be pestered if he didn’t. He got his own ball this time, stealing a glance at the other from behind his hair. 

“I like it.” Somehow, that caused a shock. “It’s got teeth.” The follow-up shocked too, and lingered. 

“ _ Tch. _ ” He set his attention to the goal, like nothing had bothered him. “It’s not done yet.” Guarded.

“It’ll work though.” That voice! It was close now. How did he move so quietly? “Try it again,” he continued, and now it was sounding almost…  _ encouraging.  _ It was work in itself, trying to keep track of all these sudden shifts in tone and feeling. It was complicating. Everything Kidou threw at him was  _ complicating.  _ But - and he set the next ball at his feet, before looking up at the net - as much as he hated to admit it, he was always the better for it.

* * *

 

They continued to train until the first warning call came for lights out. There was still time, Haizaki knew, and he shocked himself with the realisation that he wanted to stay - but he was hot, and covered in sweat, and as much as he hated to admit it, was starting to feel tired. 

They packed as efficiently as they had set up, and while  it was just as quiet, somehow it didn’t feel as oppressive as before. After that it was back to the halls, and the rooms, and as they walked he did as he had before - studying the other boy, still trying to work him out. Gouenji still came across as distant. Still had that closed air about him. But maybe - and this was, Haizaki reminded himself, a big maybe - he wasn’t as cold as he had thought. 

They got back to Kidou’s room, and something compelled Haizaki to linger, instead of heading straight to shower. Gouenji was the one to open the door this time, doing so with confidence, pushing down the handle and swinging it wide open. Haizaki didn’t move to go inside, instead waiting just past the edge of the frame. Glancing in he could cearly see Kidou, still at his desk, now with notes all put away and sitting there reading instead.

“Did he beat you?” Kidou asked, not looking up from his book. 

“Not yet,” replied Gouenji, tugging at his cape as he went past, heading back to his bed. 

Haizaki hadn’t spoken. He kind of felt like he _shouldn’t._ Like he was just an observer to this part of Kidou’s life - not someone who deserved to be there. He was about to leave, to quietly slip away without notice, when Kidou looked up and caught him.  
“You have to beat him next time,” he said, gravely serious.

“Don’t make things hard for me,” Gouenji complained. Kidou smirked. “But, Haizaki-” He looked up, startled to hear his name from the figure now seated on his bed “-I’m looking forward to next time.” 

That was a challenge. Even with all the complication, he could tell that much! To be called out like that… he had been feeling tired, but somehow, it had gone and fired him up again.

“... yeah,” he replied - and that was the extent of the feelings he’d be expressing out loud. And with that he quietly excused himself, swinging the door shut, and starting off towards the showers. It hadn’t exactly been the night he had thought of. 

But… it wasn’t a complete waste.


End file.
